The Accidental Assassin (8 page)

“Escape from what?” Owen set the laptop down and flipped through his folders.

“Life.” I shrugged uncomfortably when he looked up at me. “I’m twenty-three and was living like a cat woman. Minus the cat.”

“Cat woman?” He smirked.

“I never did anything interesting or spontaneous. I wasn’t even using my art degree because I was comfortable in the boring job I had been doing for the last three years. I was just…existing.” I tucked my feet up under me and picked at the jeans. The knees were wearing thin, like they had been someone’s favorite pair. “I thought London would give me the chance to break out of my routine.”

“Well, I think it’s fair to say you accomplished that.” He smiled before looking down at his computer.

“More like blew it to smithereens.” I propped my chin on my knee and watched him as he typed. “What are you doing?”

“Checking email, trying to see if there are any rumors online. Hints as to what’s going on.” His voice drifted as he searched. “I knew there was something wrong with this hit from the beginning.”

“So is there an assassin chat room? Online support group? A top secret forum?” I leaned forward to try and peek at the computer screen.

“Something like that.” His eyebrows drew together and he frowned. A familiar blue light lit his features and I gasped.

“Oh my God. Are you on Facebook?” I laughed when he turned the computer away from my prying eyes.

“No. I am
not
on Facebook. What kind of self-respecting assassin would have a Facebook group?”

“Let me see your profile picture.” I reached for the computer and he moved it further away. “Don’t tell me. You’re holding a gun, Bond style.”

“Bond wishes he was as cool as I am.” Laughter lit his eyes as he looked up at me.

“Uh huh.” I shifted back in my seat. “Do you think I could send Tess an email?” That was one thing I could remember; her email had been the same since we had met.

“That is the worst thing you could do right now.” He didn’t look up, just continued to stare at whatever was on the screen.

“Then how do you suggest I let her know she may be in danger?” I tried to reel my temper in, because it wasn’t his fault I was being targeted, but the fact was that I was in a terrible situation. “Or that I’m alive? I’m sure the cops had to have traced Danny’s car by now. Tess probably thinks I’m dead or worse.”

“Worse than dead?” Owen raised an eyebrow.

“Well, I could’ve been taken and sold as a sex slave.” I shrugged. “It happened in that movie where the dad kills everyone, only I don’t have a bad-ass to come save me. And fuck, I ran over a murderous pimp in his garage!”

“You really do have a foul mouth.” He leveled a disapproving stare at me.

“Are you kidding me? You’re an assassin. Stop throwing stones.”

“Point. But I might argue that I manage to kill people while maintaining a sense of propriety.”

“You kill people with a sense of propriety?” Laughter erupted from my mouth. “What? Do you leave a thank you note? Do you design your own assassin stationery? Dear Sir or Madam…” My laughter choked my words.

“I didn’t say I was nice about it. Just proper.”

“Proper.” I shook my head.

“Yes, clean and quick.” He watched stuff scroll across his screen. “Usually.”

I didn’t want to think about what that meant. Instead I turned back to what I felt I could control.

“So why would it be a bad idea to let her know that I’m alive? That she may be in danger?”

“They may be monitoring your email. It could lead them to you or her. Think about it. If they are after you and you let them know she is important to you, then it will send them after her to use against you. If they are after her, it could just alert them to wherever she is right now.” He frowned at me. “Where is she?”

“Italy? I didn’t ask for a detailed itinerary. It’s their honeymoon. They’re probably holed up naked in a little villa somewhere.” Standing up, I went to look out the windows. “I think they were driving, so they could be anywhere.”

We were silent for a while, the only noise the sound of his fingers dancing across the keyboard. I was starting to feel drained, the insanity of the day catching up with me now that the adrenaline had calmed.

“I don’t like this.”

“Which part?”

“Any of it. All of it. This is a giant fuc—stupid mess.” Using my fingers I pushed the blinds open wide enough to see through. “I don’t have a passport, I don’t have any money—I have nothing.”

“That’s not true.” Owen’s voice rumbled through the room.

“What?” I shot him a look over my shoulder. “I’m baggage for you. Nothing but a hassle to give you a headache.”

“Not true.” He sat back from the little table in front of the sofa. “And you have a gun. I’ve found that those are just as helpful as money or passports at times.”

I smiled at him and turned back around to look at the gravel path in front of the house. I didn’t want to show him just how vulnerable I felt at that moment, but I could feel him watching me out of the corner of my eye.

“Ava, I’m not going to dump you on the street.” I heard him stand up, but didn’t turn around. “It may not be comforting, but you’re my best link to all of this and I need to know what’s going on.”

“Your handler can help you with that.” I shrugged. “Or your Facebook group.”

“No one has heard anything. Seems like the wires are too quiet right now. My contacts are antsy.” He had moved closer to me, but I still didn’t turn around. “Something is happening and everyone is on guard.”

“So, it is a Facebook group?” I glanced over my shoulder at where he stood. He was watching out the window with me.

“I’ll send you a friend request.” His chuckle did a lot to make me feel better.

“What will your likes be? Shooting? Maiming? Do you take James Bond quizzes and post your results? Which Bond are you?” I shifted so I was facing him.

“I guess you’ll find out.” He reached out and tugged a lock of my hair.

“I’m not ready to die, Owen.” I looked at him with steady eyes. “I just decided to start living.”

“I’ll never lie to you, Ava.” He lowered his voice like we weren’t already alone. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I’ll do my best to make sure you get to live your life the way you want to.”

“Why?” I was always good at asking questions when I probably shouldn’t.

“I don’t know. Maybe I like the challenge of doing something different.” He paused. “Or maybe I just want to see you happy. I miss that smile from the café.”

I had no idea how to respond. Instead of saying anything, I leaned forward and kissed his cheek. His stubble brushed against my skin and I fought the urge to turn into him and nuzzle along his neck. I knew I should be ashamed for being attracted to a man who killed people for a living. Knew I should be trying to get away from him and running to the police. And yet…

And yet, I was still there, putting my trust in a man that I met while he was trying to kill another man. There was something seriously wrong with my decision making abilities right then, but there was nothing I could do to change how I felt.

BY THE TIME it was dark outside I was going stir crazy. There was a television, but nothing could hold my attention. Owen still hadn’t heard from his contacts and wasn’t saying much. I had a feeling that he was lost in his head. Maybe plotting to take down a government or steal someone’s ice cream cone. Okay, I didn’t really think he would steal someone’s ice cream, but I honestly wasn’t sure what was going on in that head of his.

I also wasn’t sure what was going on in my head. I went back and forth between trying to figure out what I would tell the police and how I could contact Tess without attracting unwanted attention. The pistol Owen had given me was sitting on the arm of the chair I was using.

My imagination got the best of me at one point and I wondered how many people that gun had been used to kill. But then the sensible part of me kicked in and I refused to worry about it. Those people were dead and I needed to protect myself. Callous? Maybe. Didn’t make it less true. And feeling bad about it did nothing but cloud my need to keep myself safe.

Besides, I’m sure they didn’t care.

Owen stood up from his spot on the couch and stretched. I watched him, my eyes traveling over his body as he twisted and turned. He wasn’t very bulky, built more like a swimmer. Tall and lanky with muscles that made my mouth water. I shouldn’t stare at him, but my modesty had run out the door when I decided the gun was my friend.

“Get some sleep.” He looked over at me. “You should try to grab some while you can.”

“I don’t think I can sleep.” I shook my head.

“Why don’t you go try? There’s a bed in the other room. I’ll stay out here and sleep on the sofa.”

“What if someone shows up?” A shiver raced down my spine.

“There are alarms and security cameras.” He turned his computer to face me. The screen was broken up into four different images. One of the front of the house, one of the back, another showing the narrow driveway that led down the side of the house and the last one was pointed at a barn of some sort just in front of a tree line.

“Are all of your safe houses this well guarded?”

“No.” His eyes stared at the computer and I had the impression that he was avoiding looking at me.

“This one must be special.”

“It’s vulnerable. The security system makes it less so.” He gave a lazy shrug.

“Uh huh.” Not the whole story, but that was okay. It was his story to keep.

“We’ll be safe, Ava. Go get some sleep. We don’t know when we’ll have another chance.”

I chewed on my lip and thought about it. Sleep didn’t sound that bad, but how could I trust that nothing would happen to me while I slept? What if he decided to ditch me? What if someone came looking for us while we were unconscious?

“How do you do it?”

“Do what?” He raised one eyebrow.

“Sleep, knowing that you have enemies.” I played with the hem of my sweater.

“I trust my equipment.” He stood up and held his hand out to me.

“It must be pretty good equipment, then.” I felt my cheeks flush at the unintentional flirtation. But that smile was playing across his lips again, and I liked seeing it.

“Yes it is.”

I let him pull me to my feet. I grabbed the pistol from the chair arm and let it hang loosely in my fingers. Tugging gently, he pulled me toward the bedroom where he had gotten my clothes earlier. The room was dark, but he flipped on a light on the small table next to the bed. I watched as he pulled back the blanket and fluffed the pillows. He turned to look at me once he was finished and stuck his hands in his pockets. That simple gesture made him seem somewhat vulnerable.

“It’s not fancy, but it’s comfortable.”

“It’s great. Thank you.” I looked at the bed and forced myself to smile. If he wasn’t an assassin I would think he was trying to be sweet.

“Get some rest.” He turned and paused by the door. “I’ll be on the couch. Nothing will get past me.”

“Will you be able to sleep?”

“Don’t worry about me, Ava. This is a normal day for me.”

He closed the door without looking back. I sat down on the bed and took a deep breath. The bed was comfortable and if I wasn’t running for my life I might even have appreciated the charm of the little cottage I was stuck in, but right then I was too busy trying to make sense out of the craziness that had completely taken over my day.

Eventually I lay down and tried to get comfortable. Owen was right; I needed to sleep. Exhaustion weighed heavily on my shoulders and I felt like there was a beach’s worth of sand under my eyelids. While my mind was racing, my body was waving a white flag. There would be time to worry about everything in the morning. If Owen decided to bail on me, I’d figure out something. If he decided to kill me…well, there probably wasn’t much I could do to stop him.

I shivered and pulled the quilt up higher on my shoulders. Deep down, I didn’t feel threatened by Owen. He’d had his opportunity to ditch me and hadn’t done it, but I still wasn’t sure about his motives. Did assassins have scruples? He might be British, but he wasn’t exactly James Bond. He did his job for money, not out of duty to Crown and Country. He wasn’t Tom Cruise in Mission: Impossible, either. Though I had a feeling he lived in a world that was cold and lonely much like those two characters.